


the bicentennial man

by wehdile



Series: unto the fourth generation [2]
Category: Dead Space, SOMA (Video Game)
Genre: 25th Century Speculation, Android Building, Crossover, Gen, M/M, Past Ellie Langford/Isaac Clarke, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, WAU's Shoddy Construction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-24 05:16:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8358763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wehdile/pseuds/wehdile
Summary: In the aftermath, Simon Jarrett becomes a real boy. Figuratively speaking.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TwistaLolita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistaLolita/gifts).



> While technically a sequel to she'ol, I did promise Twista a Simon/Isaac fanfic a looong time ago. So I'm finally making good on my promise and writing something about how Simon and Isaac are both fucked up and gay for each other. Not entirely canon since I've not decided what the end OTP is gonna be for this crossover but this is my world and I do what I damn please.
> 
> Spoilers for she'ol.

“You’re sure this place isn’t being monitored? The last thing we need are EarthGov’s soldiers charging in.” Isaac nudges an unlabeled bottle out of his path into the shadows of the dingy alley Carver had led them down. Faded posters for expensive goods and procedures were plastered on walls, colors faded and littered with graffiti despite not having been seen by by more than one or two people in the last year.

“For the last time, _Isaac_ -” Carver exhales through his nose with emphasis “-we’re fine. This place hasn’t been used for weeks.” He adjusts his grip on the hefty rifle he carries and Isaac can’t help but notice the safety is off. “In fact,” Carver continues, “EarthGov is decommissioning this place tomorrow. That’s the only reason I was able to get clearance, off the record of course.” Isaac can hear the smug smile in his voice but only feels alarm, a pang of panic at how loose and fast they’re playing with their odds. And knowing his luck Isaac didn’t like those odds. 

”Tomorrow?” Isaac shakes his head, brings up his rig to check the time: 02:30. “Jesus Carver, isn’t that cutting it a little close?” If Carver was off by even a few hours, the chances of them being found practically skyrocketed. “I’m not exactly in good graces with EarthGov.” He speaks as if he wasn’t on the blacklist of most major organizations, both governmental and private alike.

Carver glances back over his shoulder, is about to say something when the third member of their party clears his throat with a purpose.

”Uh, guys?”” Both Carver and Isaac turn to look at Simon, whose pinprick red eyes stare from beneath the shadow of an oversized hoodie. “How far away is this place? We’ve been walking for a while now and, being outside isn’t really conducive to the whole lying low from the government plan.” He glances at Isaac as if searching for solidarity, shoulder hunched forward and hands clutched around a cheap pistol. Even though two of them were both armed to the teeth, it had seemed prudent to teach Simon how to at least use a firearm 'just in case'. Isaac’s trained eye picks up on Simon’s ameteaur grip and stance, but he’s willing to bet his eerie, inhuman appearance would scare away most civvies.

”Almost there,” Carver grunts. “Don’t worry Simon, Nothing’s gonna happen when you’re with us.” His big smile seems to reassure Simon who nods with a soft “ok” before they continue their trek in less tense silence. True to Carver’s word they reach the back of what could only be an EarthGov building, once shining facade now marred by industrial soot and grime. Part of him thrills at seeing proof of the sorry state EarthGov was in - those fuckers deserved it for trying to harness the Markers for their own gain.

With a- presumably stolen- keycard, Carver lets them in the back door and they make their way through winding hallways littered with discarded medical equipment to the basement, guns drawn with flashlights on. Simon is the only one to pause at the top of the stairs and Isaac swears, looking back at Simon, he can see the fear in those unmoving red lights.

”Simon?” Hearing his name seems to snap Simon out of his stupor and he nearly hurdles down the stairs to make up for his pause. “Sorry.” Simon mumbles apologetically, pulling down his hood to expose the round dome of his diving helmet.. “It just- this place reminds me of Pathos II a little. Er, minus the water and sentient AI. It’s...unsettling.”

Isaac watches Simon shift in place, arms drawn in close to his body while he holds onto his flimsy pistol for dear life. In the background he hears Carver shuffling around in the dark coupled with the protest of rusted metal but ignores it as his thoughts threaten to wander. “...Yeah, it’s kinda creepy,” Isaac finally admits. He fails to mention how this place is eerily reminiscent of the asylum he was locked up in for three long, agonizing years or how that resemblance makes his brain itch with _fear_ and _panic_ and most of all, _guilt_ -

”Got it!” Carver shouts and with that warning, the lights overheard flickering wildly before flooding the room in a searing bright light. Isaac squints and from Simon comes a rapid series of almost imperceptible whir as his camera like eyes contract to accommodate the sudden change. They were fragile pieces of equipment, something he only learned from having had to do impromptu repairs Simon once before, back when they were still uncertain of Earth’s fate. To think he’s going to build a new body for Simon feels like an insurmountable task when some sentient AI beat humanity’s best scientists to the punch. Looking at Simon grumble and then fumble to turn off his flashlight calms his nerves slightly. It’s not like he doesn’t have a blueprint to work off of.

”Did you turn on the exterior lights? I don’t want anyone knowing we’re here,” is the first thing out of Isaac’s mouth as they regroup upstairs.

Carver looks a little hurt. “I’m not an idiot you know. Course I didn’t. There was barely enough power to work the medical wing.” He continues to talk in that gruff, practical manner even as he pulls up a projection of the map’s interior and leads them towards their destination. “Dunno how long it’ll last but it won’t just shut off without warning. The medical wing is connected to some sort of backup generator so the patients wouldn’t croak but, like I said, dunno how that’ll last either.”

The tell-tale smell of anesthetic still lingers as they file through double doors door, Isaac all too aware of the words ‘MEDICAL PERSONNEL ONLY’ etched on the metal in, now faded, red ink. He was half expecting to see a biohazard warning or anything that might point to nefarious activities. He just sees a normal hallway stretching before them that was, surprisingly, absent of the clutter he'd come to associate with EarthGov facilitates. Probably because he'd always been one step behind Necromorph outbreaks, which tended to make organization a moot point.

Isaac checks that his clip is full and the safety off.

Just in case.

”Isaac? You coming?” Realizing he'd fallen behind at Carver’s call, Isaac holsters his gun with clumsy fingers and breaks into a light jog to close the distance. He's barely winded, reaching them just in time to catch Carver forcing the lock open with what looked like an illegal hacking device. Isaac makes a note to ask him where he got it later and allows Simon go first before bringing up the rear.

”This place is absolutely haunted.” Simon says it with such authority and so suddenly that Carver cracks a smile.

”Ehh, maybe.” Carver waves his hand at empty air before pacing to the boarded up windows and peering out through the narrow gaps between the wood. “It’s definitely abandoned and if it ain’t, well, we’ll deal with it when it happens. I’ll watch the door while you do your thing,” he says, speaking directly to Isaac and giving Simon a thumbs up before he’s stations himself just outside the door.

”Well,” Isaac says, slipping out of his jacket and moves to examine the machines before him. “Let’s get started.”

―――

It isn’t every day that Isaac gets to examine a complex piece of machinery that he hasn’t already seen the blueprint for a thousand times over. Governments and corporations were fans of standardizing machinery and Isaac could appreciate that - it had saved his life on numerous occasions. Corporate stuff was what put food on the table and it kept him sharp but it didn't come close to actually discovering something wholly unique. And as Isaac examines the scans displayed on the screen, he’s fascinated- and somewhat off put- by what he sees.

He has already known that Simon was a kind of WAU constructed Frankenstein, a cobbled together person consisting of Imogen Reed’s corpse and, as Simon put it, ‘some electronic slapped on for good measure’. What he hadn't known was how little of Simon was inorganic. Surrounded by transparent bone, it makes the thin silhouette of his robotic head harshly stand out, especially where the bottom connects to Reed's spine. He zooms in and sees that it isn't even properly aligned, merely tilted to one side at an almost imperceptible degree. It must be the structure gel that holds it in place otherwise Simon would have knocked himself loose the moment he moved at anything other than a brisk walk.

"Not much to work with," Isaac admits to himself on an exhale and leans forward, eyes fixed on the screen attached to the outside of the NoonTech Diagnostic machine. Much to his surprise the machine could perform functions outside of jamming a needle through people’s eyes, namely full body scans that were thorough enough for what he’s planning.

“Uh, what was that?” Simon’s asks from inside the machine in a voice tinged with uncertainty. Isaac switches to the camera on the machine’s interior and is treated to a closeup of Simon’s face. Now, with the microphone now, he picks up on the the faint yet unmistakable whirr of the cameras that serve as Simon’s eyes swiveling in their sockets as the machine informs Isaac that Simon’s heart rate has picked up.

He frowns and presses the button that opens the intercom between them. “Sit tight, scan’s almost done.”

"Can't you sped it up? I thought X-Ray scans would be a lot quicker in the future." Something bangs from within the machine’s walls and Simon's fingers twitch in response.

"Simon, it's not an X-Ray scan. It's," Isaac pauses, considers a simple explanation with his finger idle on the speaker button. "...Think an MRI but bigger, for your whole body."

”A MRI scan? Huh.” That seems to relax Simon, putting futuristic tech into familiar terms. “I think I’ve had enough radiation to last me a lifetime.” Simon gives a weak laugh and Isaac can hear the smile in his voice. “Actually, I ought to have a superpower or two by now.”

Isaac scoffs. “That’s not how radiation works.”

”How would you know? All your 25th century comic books suck, they’re waaaay too focused on scientific accuracy.” On the camera Simon closes his eyes and sighs. “What happened to good old scientific fiction, huh? Fighting evil aliens and saving hot space babes. Classic.”

Isaac can feel a smile tug at his lips. How Simon managed to keep his upbeat attitude through all the shit he’s been through will always be a mystery.

“Well, scientific accuracy is kind of a big deal when we’ve colonized hundreds of planets and moons. Besides, I’m an ‘astronaut’ remember?” He almost laughs but manages to keep a straight enough face to keep speaking. “I’ve been working on ships all my life-”

He’s interrupted by a quick succession of beeps and a quick switch to the main screen displays ‘SCAN COMPLETE’ along with a variety of viewing options for the scan. Having already thought ahead, he tells the computer to transfer the scans over to his portable hard drive and raps his knuckles on the scanner's hull. “Alright, the scan's all done. Come on out.”

”Finally!”, sounds from inside the scanner, and Isaac steps around to watch Simon wriggle his way free. His movements are deliberate as to not to whack his helmet on the lip of the machine before he stands up, grunting while he shakes out each leg. “Thought I’d be stuck in there forever.”

”Actually, we’re not done yet.”

Simon looks up, eyes tracking Isaac’s movements back over to the console where, with a press of a button, the machine chirps and adjusts itself accordingly.“What do y… Oh, right. The jam a needle in your brain part.” His tone drops and Simon crosses his arms over his chest, gaze intent on the scanner configuring itself into something that resembles a chair.

“Hey, don’t blame me,” Isaac remarks. “You volunteered for this, remember?”

A prolonged silence signals a shift in the atmosphere that makes Isaac look up to Simon who stands with a hand clutched around his upper arm in profound discomfort. “I- I’m not a masochist, I’m not doing this for kicks. Being able to see what Reed might remember about the Marker is important. And…seeing Reed’s last moments are important too.” Simon’s voice becomes somber, quieter than before. “No one should have to die alone. It’s the least I can do, be witness to how she died, for squatting in her body.”

It’s touching to hear Simon’s sincerity, to know that he can care so much (too much) for a woman he’s never met. It’s a welcome break from Isaac’s internalized cynicism. Knowing Simon’s seeks reassurance, Isaac steps away from the console to help him get comfortable in the seat and although he has no face, Simon’s gaze is searching.

“Good thing you’re doing this then,” Isaac comments, drawing Simon’s attention away from the fact that he has to strap down his feet with an ankle strap. “This entire chapter of human history with the Markers has been such a fucking mess that I’d rather just be done with it.” He checks that the straps are secure with a tug and straightens up, a sharp edge to his words. “Better to have record of what happened then forget all the death and misery those fucking things have brought us.”

”Yeah, right.” Simon nods and reaches up to unclasp his helmet but the tight confines of the chair make him strain to reach every clasp. Isaac reaches over and pushes Simon’s hands away, undoing the clasps with ease.

”Thanks,” Simon says meekly.

”Don’t mention it.” Isaac firmly grasps the helmet in both hands and with a twist, unlocks it from the rest of the diving suit.

Isaac has long since become desensitized to gore of any magnitude, but a sensation of wrongness settles in his stomach once he pulls the helmet up and away to glimpse Simon’s face - Imogen’s lower face with electronics stuck in a cavity where her brain should be. Reed’s features are defined but not harsh, curved bridge of nose cut short by the massive cavity in her skull that Simon now occupies. The skin is pale, tinged a sick green-blue that brings to mind illness or decomposition. Or both. It makes the small, spidery veins of WAU beneath the skin all the more visible and it unnerved him far more than a Necromorph ever could.

“Isaac?” Two voices speak, drawing Isaac from thought, and he looks down to see Reed’s mouth turned down in a frown. “Is something wrong?” Both Reed and Simon ask, words that would otherwise be in near perfect synchrony were it not for their different accents, diction, and tone.

Isaac knows it isn’t really Reed speaking. Just Simon’s brain using Reed’s larynx for its own ends, but hell if it doesn’t send a chill down his spine. Still, he gives a reassuring smile and finally sets the helmet down on a side table. “Everything’s fine,” he lies and squeezes Simon’s hand on a rash impulse. Simon looks at Isaac, down at their hands and back up before returning a smile of white, neatly aligned teeth.

Tension dispersed, Isaac moves around the chair and lowers the head clamps to neck level. One hand on Simon’s shoulder to steady him, Isaac takes a good look at what he has to work with. What’s left of the brain is covered in a thin film of black tissue, and he can only guess that it serves as a makeshift meninges. Glad to have brushed up on his anatomy beforehand, he leans down and further secure Simon in place with a thick strap across his lap but forgoes the straps meant to go around Simon’s wrists.

”Ready?”, Isaac asks.

”Ready as I’ll ever be.” A pause as Simon shifts in vain for a more comfortable position. “Will this hurt?”

Isaac’s hand hesitates over the controls, momentary twitch developing in his right eye when he recalls the stabbing pain of his own experience. He can’t lie to Simon about this even though he’d believe whatever Isaac told him. “The brain doesn’t have any pain receptors so. Probably not.”

Simon scoffs. “Very reassuring…” A pause that hangs heavy over them both. And then: “Let’s do this, I guess.”

Isaac nods and takes hold of the controls, probe unfolding from its hidden compartment within the scanner with a touch of his finger. The camera attached to it blinks to life, giving him an aerial view of Simon’s brain that, bathed in the probe’s brilliant light, make it look almost fake. Like a prop in a cheap horror movie and not something that contains a sentient person who has put his life into Isaac’s hands. He blinks, sees the slight tremor in his fingers that betrays how tense he really is - nevermind that he’s willing to throw his life away for anyone who doesn’t screw him over. If it were _him_ in the chair again, he wouldn’t be half as tense but…

A steadying breath later and Isaac moves the probe over the occipital lobe, taking a few moments to make sure the alignment of its needle is dead on. The absolute last thing he wants to do is puncture something important. He’s no brain surgeon but this isn’t brain surgery. Just a simple needle insertion and extraction of information.

”I’m inserting the needle now. Try not to move,” he adds when he catches Simon’s legs bouncing with nervous energy. A quick apology and Simon settles down, allowing Isaac to turns his attention back to the screen where he maneuvers- with the computer’s help- the needle closer and closer until the whole screen is filled with a close up shot of fleshy tissue. Then he punctures the meninges, then hits brain tissue with a wet sound which, stealing a glance at Simon’s still legs, he didn’t feel at all.

Relieved that the WAU hadn’t completely rewired Simon’s nervous system, Isaac brings up the options for extraction on screen. He’s done this before, and although that was a needle through his eye the principle remains the same: extract enough stored visual stimuli to paint a picture of the weeks leading up to Imogen’s death. That won’t give them a complete image of what Imogen might have known about the Black Marker, but Isaac is already planning what lobe of the brain he’ll try next.

As he selects ‘BEGIN EXTRACTION’, Simon finally stirs, his fingers wrapped tight around the arm rests. ”Is it, um, in? Are you, did you start the procedure? I don’t really feel anything, which is good don’t get me wrong, but I thought I’d be able to feel _something_ , right?”

”It’s working. Just sit back and relax.”

”Isaac?” Simon’s asks and then, before Isaac can answers, speaks again in a voice blemished by the crackle of oncoming static with vowels stretched and consonants strained. “ Dr. Munshi…? Are these lights...normal?”

”What are you-?” is all Isaac can get out before Simon makes a noise between a gasp and a choke. For a split second he goes rigid, fingers curled into claws before his whole body begins to convulse against the restraints and, to Isaac’s horror, jars the needle stuck in his brain.

”Simon- Hold on!” His motions are frantic, hammering his finger against ‘CANCEL’ and, when the machine struggle to retract, he hits the side of it. “Turn off- fucking piece of government shit!” There’s a sharp snap from within, a bang of Simon hitting his head, and the arm fully retracts. Isaac lunges to close the distance to Simon, fingers fumbling to undo the straps as Carver practically materializes besides him from the hallway.

“What happened?!” Carver helps Isaac rip off the remaining straps, hauling Simon free and easing him onto the floor where Isaac can spot the steely shine of the broken needle.

“I don’t know!” He kneels down, shedding his jacket to stuff it beneath Simon’s head. “Everything was going fine and then he said something about lights and said my name and then he just! Seized up.” Simon’s exposed brain looks so fragile and he stupidly worries that it might fall out of his head the way Simon’s neck and back arch. Then the needle catches his eye again and he moves to grab the sides of Simon’s head. “Carver, help me hold him-”

Carver smacks his hands away. “Don’t hold him down,” he snaps, “you’re gonna end up hurting him doing that.” Their gaze meets and Isaac’s mouth set into a scowl, an impulsive insult ready to fly. Then Simon stills and forgets his anger (irrational, stupid anger that’s the residue of everything he’s lost), instead reaching down to feel Simon’s neck for a pulse. It’s erratic, nothing like a normal person’s heartbeat, but it is there. He heaves a sigh and shifts back in relief, the short, jostled gasps that is Simon’s breathing making him grimace.

Now that he’s stopped thrashing, now that he’s ok, getting that needle out becomes top priority. “Come here, hold him still.” Words clear and concise, he motions to Carver and they switch places, allowing Isaac a good, long look at Simon’s exposed brain. At first, he can’t make out what damage was done, just that the needle juts out at a sharp angle. He leans in closer only to realize Simon’s convulsing has nearly shaken the needle free. _Thank God_ , he thinks, taking hold of the broken end and pulls it straight out in a quick motion. It slides free with ease, and aside from the sheen of brain fluid, there’s no structure gel present that might indicate a punctured artery.

“Whu-” Simon groans without warning, face scrunched up in clouded concentration. “Whuh happened?”

Isaac tosses the needle aside so his hands are free to adjust his jacket under Simon’s head. “We’re here. Don’t move ok?”

Simon grunts but makes no move to rise which Isaac takes as a good sign. His eyes have returned to their steady red glow, moving with lethargic rolls in their casings, dilating and contracting in what must be Simon trying to focus on the world.

“You’re gonna be ok, alright?” Carver adds, then to Isaac, “Get his helmet.”

Isaac nods. ”Right.” He retrieves the helmet and with Carver’s help, manages to sit Simon up. Simon slumps over, held up only by Carver’s arm wrapped about his shoulder, hand gripping the back of his neck. As Isaac goes to place the helmet on, movement catches his eyes. To his amazement, he sees the black veins of the meninges _move_ , small strands of structure gel reach across the tear slowly at first but then more quickly until the only mark left behind is an innocuous dark spot.

”...Did he tell you he had epilepsy?” Carver asks, easing him back down.

Isaac shakes his head. Feeling the slight tremor of muscle through the diving suit makes his stomach clench in concern, completely warranted concern. “No. He- he never mentioned anything about epilepsy. The lights weren’t even flashing that much, there’s no reason they would cause a seizure.” Part of him wants to add _It never gave me a seizure_ then he reminds himself he isn’t Simon. Simon is wholly unique, an amalgam of biology and technology that’s so different he could never predict a fucking seizure would happen.

“It’s not always flashing lights that do it. Might be a certain smell that does it or it can just happen for no damn good reason.”

Isaac raises an eyebrow. “Where’d you learn that?”

“Got some medical training in the army. Medics aren’t always handy.” Carver shrugs, nonchalant. And after a full minute of silence broken only by Simon’s mumbling, asks ”Do you think that, Reed had epilepsy? It _is_ her brain he’s using.”

”I… I hadn’t thought of that,” Isaac admits. “There’s not much left of Reed but...maybe there’s enough that his eyes could be wired to her occipital lobe.” It’s useless speculation he realizes and shuts down that train of thought before it can go off the rails. He’s not a seasoned brain surgeon or even an ametaur neurologist no matter how many books he reads on the subjects. In truth he’s just glad that his ignorance didn’t kill Simon or worse, leave him with permanent brain damage.

His relief don’t last long, replaced by sudden tension in his jaw when Isaac catches sight of his watch. 07:50. Nearly 8AM, too close to when the demolition crew could arrive. Government work might be sloppy but it was almost always on time. “We need to get going,” he tells Carver and then to Simon, ”Simon? Do you think you can walk?”

”Um… Yeah, I can walk. I can walk I think.” Despite the clear tone, his motor coordination lags behind, movements clumsy he struggles to simply push himself up. Carver takes the initiative, hoisting him up bridal style to which Simon weakly protest before giving up with another sigh. “I’ll take care of the lights,” Isaac informs Carver, already headed over to the NoonTech scanner. “You get Simon out of here, same way we came in. I’ll meet you there.”

Not waiting to see whether Carver leaves, Isaac clears the history of the NoonTech scanner before he shuts it down. The hum of machinery slows to a stop, it’s light winking out by the time it takes Isaac to get to the door. His mind feel shuffled into a tunnel, thoughts laid out in a linear path of _turn off the lights, meet up with Carver, don’t let anyone see you_. It’s tunnel vision, eerily similar to those hours spent on the Ishimura with the promise of death as his only companion. Hell, he’s even drawn his gun somewhere between jogging back to the stairs and taking them two at a time. It feels right in his hands but he knows better, knows how quick he can be to pull the trigger, and puts it away before flipping the breaker.

In the distance he can hear the telltale noise of construction machines, muffled voices of workers near the front of the building. Ordinary men coming in for an ordinary day of work.

Carver’s nowhere in sight when he makes it out the back door and a small surge of panic sets in. Carver is competent, a good soldier and the chances of construction workers being armed is laughably small. There is always a chance however, so Isaac takes the walk down the alley slow, keeps to what little shadows remain with the sun beginning to rise over the rooftops. Then he sees their car, Carver settling Simon in the back seat and Isaac finally takes a pause to catch his breath.

Reunited, they clamber in, Carver inputting Isaac’s address as the car pulls away to join the few early drivers already on the road. It’s only after they reach the main highway that Isaac feels he can speak, that they’re safe. ”We cut it close,” he comments, still checks the mirrors for signs of a tail- it didn’t hurt to be too careful, especially since they’d just trespassed on government property.

”Yeah.” Carver is doing the same though he’s visibly less agitated, exuding that calm but sure attitude that most soldiers have. It’s a strange reversal of their usual demeanors and, briefly, Isaac wonders how much of him came back from PATHOS-II. He’s been through the same shit so many times he’d assumed it no longer affected him, that he was ok with comparatively insignificant danger. He stops wondering and instead twists around in his seat to check on Simon who lays prone across the back seat, strapped in haphazardly with a few seatbelts.

”He’ll be alright,” Carver comments having caught Isaac looking back. “He’ll be a little foggy for an hours, maybe more, but he’s not gonna keel over anytime soon.” He eyes Isaac suddenly, then looks away and Isaac can feel the apology in the air, unspoken but not less meaningful for it. Isaac nods because it doesn’t need to be said, settles in for the long ride home The highway stretches out before them, flashy cars passing them as their reckless drivers hurtle toward destinations unknown. The sun has come up, rays of light peeking up from behind the skyscrapers in the near distance. Carver turns on the radio and for a minute Isaac can believe this is just a normal drive on a normal day, that he’s a normal guy on his way home from some late night excursion. He knows though that he can’t be that person ever again, can’t return to a state of ignorant normalcy even if he carved out every trace of the Marker from his brain (Maybe part of him doesn’t want to be normal anymore).

Apartment still a rundown piece of crap when the car pulls up at 09:27, they get out in the parking lot behind his block without a word. Even though this is the ‘bad’ part of town where people mind their business, Isaac still pulls up Simon’s hoodie before Carver picks him up. They take the elevator in an awkward silence with a nervous looking tenant Isaac has never seen before but who holds their bag a little too tightly and relaxes a little too quickly when they get off at his floor.

He’s opening the door when Carver clears his throat, forcing Isaac turns to look at him. “Yeah?”

”Do you mind, do you mind if I come in? Just for a few hours. I wanna keep an eye on him”

Isaac frowns, tries to rub the exhaustion out of his eyes. “You don’t have to do that. I can-”

“I _want_ to. Better if he has a few eyes on him anyway. Besides,” and Carver’s smile is a little jovial, “you look like you could use some sleep.”

“Ok,” Isaac says, too tired to argue, and lets Carver in. “Ok.”


End file.
